Answers That Raise More Questions
by clicketykeys
Summary: Supplement to Zombies, Run! Mission 2, "Lay of the Land." Spoilers for Mission 2. Clip 6 - Five reflects on Seven and trust.
1. Tempting Fate

**Clip 1 – Tempting Fate**

As I walked briskly over to the gates, I could hear the sound of klaxons and the metal rumbling and squealing as it lifted. It was depressing how familiar it seemed. Runner Seven was already there, obviously waiting on me, but I resisted the compulsion to increase my pace in the least. It wasn't like I was late or anything.

We settled into a steady jog as Sam made the introductions official, though I'd technically been introduced to all the other runners the day after I'd first arrived. I'd found myself wishing he had a different name, or a different number. Evan/Seven was probably going to act as a mnemonic, making it harder to think of him only by his runner designation.

He might have more experience than the other runners, but I figured that was nothing more than an excuse. Seven looked rather like a human fortress, naturally tall and broad-shouldered, with a thick layer of muscle that added to the image. His relentlessly even temper made his size seem reassuring more so than intimidating, and people naturally gravitated to him.

Guess we all wanted a bit of reassuring these days.

It hadn't escaped my notice that when we headed out of the gate and turned, Seven stayed to the outside, so that I was running between him and the wall. I found myself wondering if he was trying to protect me or keep me from running off. Wasn't like I really had anywhere I could go, anyway.

He explained that he'd just be taking me for a jog around Abel and pointing out the main ways to get into the city without attracting more attention from the undead than was absolutely necessary. "Should be a quick, easy run."

We're not even a hundred yards out and I'm ducking my head so he won't see me roll my eyes. Sam apparently agrees – I hear him groan over our comms, and I bite back a smile. "You _know _what happens when you say that," he grumbles.

But Seven doesn't seemed worried in the least. I suppose that's the real reason he's the unofficial head of runners. "Whatever happens," he replies smoothly to Sam, "we'll handle it. We ALWAYS handle it."

* * *

[Clip 2 coming soon! Please review. :) ]


	2. The Heart of Abel

**Clip 2 – The Heart of Abel**

So we're jogging along at a pretty fair clip, nothing awful, but Seven is chatting up a storm like we're kicked back in a couple of recliners. Come to think of it, I'm kind of having a hard time imagining this guy relaxing at all, let alone lazing about in a recliner. I bet he spends his off-duty time doing pushups or getting in some extra training … probably with a gun. I'm not the least bit annoyed at having been sent outside the compound without having been issued a weapon. Not even so much as a damned stick! No, I don't resent that one little bit.

Seven doesn't seem particularly torn up about the death of the previous Five. Wonder if he's the one who shot her. But I can't fault the guy for being practical. It's actually kind of nice. Makes it easier to keep my distance, for one thing. And it means I can probably trust him not to do anything stupid enough to get us both killed.

He does, however, seem to be carrying some sort of grudge. Was there someone else from Mullins who'd been here before me – someone who'd been abruptly shipped out again? Or had Seven actually been on assignment somewhere else for Mullins and then ordered here to Abel? It's tough to imagine him getting attached to anyone other than his comrades-in-arms, but I suppose it's not out of the question entirely. He is human, after all. (I think.)

Note to self: don't gripe about our absentee major anywhere near Seven. His entire bearing broadcasts his military experience; he's the sort that probably doesn't consider himself _ex_-military. I wouldn't be surprised to find out that he'd signed on right out of school. But it seems he was probably good at it, and if he was happy with his life, who am I to fault him for that?

I'm not entirely comfortable with the way he says 'we'll take care of you,' though. In fact, I think I'm going to take back my earlier statement that he's not intimidating. Right now I'm thinking that Seven might be the most terrifying person I've ever met, because if I've read him wrong and he's _not _the idealistic, honor-bound soldier boy I'd figured, it might be that instead he's a calculating, psychopathic killer who's planning to … well, I really don't want to think about what he might be planning.

Right! The armory. Let's talk about guns, and how I'm never going to be given one. That'll make me feel ever so much better as I run along beside you, Seven. He prates on about their tactics and their brilliant stand in the face of overwhelming odds, and I try to maintain a respectfully neutral expression.

And then he decides to test me, of course. Really, are lives so cheap lately that it's fine to risk sprinting past a zombie to get a closer look at a fluttering scrap that "might be nothing, might be something"?

But I'm neither so cowardly nor so blase that I'm willing to let him take that risk on his own. And maybe my pride has something to do with it. I'm not about to let this self-righteous twit think I'm some kind of worthless mooch. So when he shouts "Go!" I'm right there beside him, sprinting for all I'm worth.


	3. Feeling Somewhat Testy

**Clips 3 & 4 – Feeling Somewhat Testy**

As we approach the tree, Seven points toward what looks like a white laundry bag draped over the lowest branches. _Laundry bag,_ I remind myself, trying to affix that in my mind so that I'll remember it that way instead of _body bag. _It sounds like Mullins has been providing supplies through copter drops on some sort of regular basis.

Then he wants me to run faster so that I can grab the bag and avoid getting noshed on by the zombies. Never mind that we had already picked up the pace quite a bit. Seven, of course, doesn't seem winded in the least, and I briefly wonder why _he's _not the one getting the drop. Of course, it's somewhat rhetorical: I know even before he says a word about it that this is going to be yet another test. It's not just to see how well I can run, either. He's watching to see if I grumble or complain or roll my eyes or even so much as hesitate before I dash toward it.

And while I have no intention of being a yappy little lapdog, begging for table scraps, I'm not about to show my hand any earlier than I have to. So I clench my teeth against the smartass response that comes to mind and focus on getting to the tree well before that first zombie does. We're out of range of Abel's snipers now, so I'm on my own.

Going into the woods slows me down a bit – have to scan the ground for roots and branches and other bits of debris I'd rather not think about. The last thing I need is to trip and lose my lead.

I get to the tree well ahead of the zoms shuffling down the road toward me and reach up for the green tab Seven pointed at. It's not quite within my grasp, so I have to kind of hop to grab it. Fortunately as soon as it's in my hand, the bag falls easily out of the branches. It's lumpy, but not heavy, so I tuck it under my arm and head back toward Seven.

Of course as soon as I change direction, the zombies do as well. It's not some dumb white bag they want; it's me.

Seven helps me stuff the bag into the satchel I've got hanging from my shoulder. The contents would probably fit more easily if we actually opened the bag and emptied it, but with zombies on our tail, it's not worth the time. I think he's trying to be encouraging, but he's worse at it than Sam, and that's saying something. I'm not a retriever; don't patronize me.

He's practical, though, and I suppose that gets him a few points in my book. Sure, he gave me the party line about 'we care about our people,' but he's not bothering to pretend like we're pals or anything. Sort of refreshing, to be honest. When I get taken out, whether it's by zoms or because I've been infected – I guess technically it's 'if,' but it seems like a silly distinction to make – Seven will speak well of me but won't shed a single tear. I guess it's nice to know that up front.

We head along the main road for a bit and I'm struck by how incredibly quiet it is. The land near the highway had been cleared of trees for some distance, so there isn't even the noise of the wind through the branches or small animals snuffling about in the undergrowth. There's the sound of our trainers hitting the pavement, but beyond that, nothing at all.


	4. Neighbors

**Clip 5 – Neighbors **

The highway has a slight incline to it, but it's nothing painful. The exit ramp, however, is another story. I'm sure my face is flushed. There's nothing I can do about that, but I try to make sure to breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth. It's supposed to help keep your breathing steady, but more importantly, since it keeps me from gasping, hopefully Seven won't notice that I'm damn near ready to drop.

My pride is about all I have left, after all.

We hang a right at the top of the ramp and Evan begins pointing out features as we cross the overpass. I knew about the cities, of course, but not that I'd be expected to go there. One of the first things that everybody figured out after the dead started walking was that cities were about the worst places to be. "Crawling with undead," Seven says. Great. Just peachy, in fact. Because I really want to dodge hordes of undead while I'm scrounging for supplies.

Abel's well-situated, but New Canton's got them beat on location. Got us beat, I suppose; it sounds like I'm not going to be reassigned any time soon. Seven calls New Canton a "castle," but to be honest it looks more like a fortress. It isn't particularly pleasant to think that we're not on speaking terms with our nearest neighbors, especially since their arsenal probably dwarfs (WORD CHOICE?) ours by several factors of ten. I sure as anything hope they don't get it in their heads that Abel poses some kind of threat.

I wonder how long it's been since Scoobs got flattened. It's probably already been thoroughly scavenged, and I'm certainly not trained in forensics, but I've got to admit, I'm curious. The way Seven's voice kind of faltered when he claimed they didn't know what happened? Yeah. Maybe it's not 'curious' as much as 'suspicious.'

How was it that Scoobs burned so completely, but the fire didn't seem to have spread much beyond it? How was it that a group of kids that somehow managed to be self-sufficient for months was suddenly wiped out by a single random mob? But if it _was _something more than another random zombie attack, why would anybody target a bunch of kids?

My mind was going in what felt like a hundred different directions at once, and none of them seemed to lead anywhere helpful. Seven suggested we head back to Abel, and I certainly wasn't about to object.


	5. Casual Suspicion

**Clip 6 – Casual Suspicion **

"Some People," is it, Seven? You wouldn't've been one of them, would you? I suppose it's fortunate that I don't have the breath to sneer at him, because he probably could take me down without even having to bother with a weapon. In fact, with his broad shoulders and well-defined torso, I might have found Seven kind of sexy if I'd only looked at him and didn't have to listen to his Golden Boy sermons.

Right, it was just the rocket launcher attack that had anyone concerned. That was all. Had nothing to do with the rampant paranoia and xenophobia that have spread like weeds through the country, choking out any remnants of post-apocalyptic civilization.

In fairness, it sounds like they've had some difficult experiences that have made them somewhat wary. With zombies swarming everywhere, a bit of paranoia is actually kind of healthy.

Then he has to go and tell me more about Scoobs. And all of a sudden I'm unbelievably grateful that the copter was shot down before it got to Abel with supplies missing. For some reason I even feel a twinge of guilt, even though I know I had absolutely nothing to do with Scoobs' destruction or the missing supplies or any of it. I remind myself that none of that was my fault in the least, and I find that I'm feeling even angrier at whoever might've been behind it.

Seven sounds honestly puzzled, and I just can't get a read on him. Is he really that innocent, that he isn't suspicious of me and what my agenda is? Or is he just good enough that I haven't a chance of figuring out what he truly believes?

I guess that's one of the things you don't mention. Everybody talks about missing things like fresh food and sheets just out of the dryer and long, meandering strolls for no purpose other than to enjoy the day. But it's just not cool to say that you miss not having to wonder if folks are planning to kill you. Or that you miss being unimportant. Being able to goof around without risking death for it.

Conclusion: Seven freaks me out. We're heading back to Abel, which sounds good, but there's still plenty of time for him to arrange an "accident" without much difficulty at all. And he could just tell everyone back there "it was awful! Five set me up!" or something like that, or that I'm incompetent and got bit on a simple test run… just about any story would work, to be honest. But apparently he thinks I'll be useful, so it seems I've passed his stupid little tests.

I guess at this point I probably wouldn't trust anyone they sent out with me; I'd really rather run by myself. However, with some of the runners, it wouldn't be quite so terrifying. Four, for example. She's just a wee thing. Bit clumsy, too. I'm pretty sure I could take her.

And that's just it. I really, really wish it didn't seem so natural to think like this. I don't _want _to think about taking Four out. And it's entirely possible that the reason they sent Seven with me was because they didn't know if I'd be any good and they didn't want me getting hurt. I want to believe that. It's ever so much nicer – more comforting.

Comfort, however, is rare.

As we approach the compound, the rifles clatter at the zoms behind us. The klaxons blare, and the gates rattle up, and a moment later we're through and behind the fence again.

I've made it. I'm back. I'm safe – for now, anyway. It occurs to me that _I'm home _wasn't one of my thoughts of relief. I don't think I've really felt at home anywhere, not since before the outbreak.

I wonder if it's even possible to feel that anymore.

* * *

[End clip! And just in time to sneak in a still-fairly-early leg-stretching walk. Up to Mission 18 now; writing takes a lot more time than walking does! I'll probably listen to 3, though, getting ready for the next series.]


End file.
